Toy Story 2: The Boyz are Back
by Glittermonkey
Summary: Wherein Qui meets his Obi.


**Toy Story 2: The Boyz are Back**

* Author: Padawan Yung-Ju Tanida glittermonkey@earthlink.net>   
* Categories: Humor/Parody, with a dash of unexpected sappiness   
* Rating: PG? They're just toys, for goodness sake :) 

* Spoilers: Absolutely none at all, though there are some   
references that will make more sense if you've   
read the original Toy Story available now at   
your friendly neighborhood archive. 

* Disclaimer: Ain't mine, dammit. Please don't hurt me. 

* Notes: Back in late October of 1999, a group of M_Aers   
from the Southern California area got together   
for lunch at the Rainforest Cafe, among other   
activities. At that time, my Qui doll was still   
lonely because of the lack of Obis in toy stores.   
But then, along came one of those listsibs with   
a little surprise and all was well. During the   
ensuing afternoon, the dolls spent most of their   
time in strange positions on top of our restaurant   
table, due to the twisted talents of Megan   
(duct tape) and Sheila (Ophie). Pictures available   
upon request. Afterwards, someone proposed that   
a story should be written from their points of   
views about that particular day. Two months later,   
here it is. 

* Thanks: To the lovely Holly and the Miriam for their thorough   
and insightful betas. Masters of the written word and   
angels to boot, you guys truly rock. *huggles* 

* Summary: 12-inch Qui finally meets his Obi, and sparks fly.   
* Feedback: Is yummilicious. Please please please? 

-- 

Obi-Wan was nervous. He knew it wasn't very Jedi-like to fidget,   
but that was the only thing he was capable of doing to relieve   
his apprehension, given the fact that all his limbs were bound   
with plastic twisty-ties. He wasn't even sure how he'd gotten   
into this predicament. 

Less than a day ago, he had been assigned to a mission on   
Toysarius, negotiating a very sensitive peace treaty between   
the Furbys of Aisle Seven and the Teletubbies of Aisle Nine.   
It was a potentially explosive situation to be handled with   
the greatest of diplomatic delicacy, considering neither   
species seemed capable of speaking in an intelligible tongue.   
With the hostile hordes of Pokemon invading from the north   
end of their territory, it had been absolutely necessary   
that these two species put aside their differences and unite   
to form a defensive militia at once. 

Things had been touch and go for a while until, with his   
boundless Jedi ingenuity, Obi-Wan had finally managed to   
hammer out a makeshift language based on figures drawn with   
an Etch-a-Sketch and supplemented by 3D models constructed   
from a kit of Lego building blocks. The foundations had   
gradually been laid for what looked to be a very promising   
partnership. 

Then he had heard it -- a loud squeal of joy, followed by the   
sound of footsteps coming in his direction. He froze in place,   
hoping the others would know to do likewise. Before he could   
even turn around to check, though, The Hand seized him. 

"There you are, Obi! What do you think you're doing down here   
with all the pre-school toys? No wonder everybody's been having   
such a hard time getting ahold of you, if you're hiding out in   
random places like that..." 

As his captor continued babbling on, Obi-Wan saw that he was   
being carried down the aisle toward the cash registers. That   
was not good. The Council would think that he'd failed his   
mission if he didn't finish up and report back to them. He   
needed to make a quick escape. He kept his eyes peeled,   
waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself. 

After reaching the checkout lane and placing her purchase on   
the counter for the next available customer representative,   
Obi-Wan's captor took a few steps away to browse through the   
magazine rack. Seeing his opening, the intrepid Jedi apprentice   
gauged the distance to the floor, gathered the Force, and took   
a flying jump. 

Unfortunately, his elasticized robe snagged on a protruding   
hook which he had failed to notice in his hasty survey. The   
padawan found himself hanging rather awkwardly upside down   
from the checkout desk. bobbing dangerously close to a display   
of revolting Gungan tongue candy. Obi-Wan flailed, muttering   
some rather un-Jedi-like things in the process. His abductor   
turned around at the noise, frowned at how he had managed to   
end up in such a peculiar position, and proceeded to   
disentangle him while the line behind her waited impatiently.   
Upon further contemplation, she then decided to place her   
rather accident-prone acquisition back in his original   
packaging to avoid any other mishaps in the near future. 

Something sounding distinctly like "poodoo!" came from the toy   
box as it was stuffed into a brightly coloured shopping bag. 

---------------------- 

*This is absolutely preposterous,* Qui-Gon was thinking. Things   
like these always seemed to happen at the most inappropriate   
moments. His human landlord hadn't even given him an excuse   
when she'd abruptly extracted him from the grasp of a very   
amorous Indiana Jones figure. His accusatory glare had only   
earned him a terse remark regarding how she would be tempted   
to have him neutered if he had actually been anatomically   
correct. Qui-Gon winced at the memory. That had been a very   
low blow, so to speak. Besides which, what right had she to   
deny him this harmless little interlude? Jedi Master he might   
be, but he was also a living, breathing toy with a completely   
healthy set of needs and desires. Needs and desires, he thought   
grouchily, which were just in the process of being met when   
he'd been so rudely interrupted. 

Turning back to his erstwhile suitor, he put on a beseeching   
"will you wait for me, darling?" look... and found that his   
ardent archaeologist was already heading off in the direction   
of He-Man's Castle of Power, obviously looking for better   
prospects. Qui-Gon frowned. Well, the fellow had been a little   
too rough around the edges for his taste anyway, he soothed   
himself. *Little hussy,* the tiny voice at the back of his   
head added. 

Shortly thereafter, he was plopped very brusquely into a   
large shopping bag and left to keep company with a stack   
of assorted stationery items, a rather mangy-looking stuffed   
plot bunny, and those thrice-bedamned Jedi Duel Action   
Figures. At least, Qui-Gon noted, the pestiferous little   
miniatures were too busily engaged in a Force-enhanced   
version of Kama Sutra page 167 to goad him any further   
about his padawanlessness. 

He turned his back to them, trying to steer his concentration   
into alternate avenues as he tuned out the sound of vigorously   
squeaking plastic joints. Pausing to examine the stack of shiny   
cardboard folders next to him, he noticed vainly that his rather   
striking visage was plastered across their fronts. He made a   
mental note to commend his landlord on her good taste after he   
was done being affronted by her insulting behaviour. 

A few hours later, the Jedi Master started from the meditative   
calm he'd gradually slipped into whilst contemplating his picture.   
The slightly narcissistic glaze cleared from his eyes as he   
realized that the engine had ceased running. It seemed that   
they were now being transported by foot into a larger, noisier   
and decidedly more populated area. He glanced behind him and   
saw that the action figures had decided to shift their activities   
to a more comfortable setting and were now going at it on top   
of a pile of doll clothes in one corner. Queen Amidala would   
not be pleased with such inventive use of her wardrobe, Qui-Gon   
mused. 

He climbed up over the folders and peeked out over the edge of   
the bag to get a better view of the dealings going on outside.   
The utterly contemptible person who had brought him here was   
now chatting animatedly with a group of other women. One of   
whom, he noticed, was wearing a particularly fashionable shirt   
with his image on it. It seemed that he had been abandoned to   
his own devices. The Jedi Master sat back with a frustrated   
sigh. This would be a long day. 

He was just about to clamber out and do a bit of exploration   
on his own when he saw another person approaching the gaggle   
already milling around above him. While the woman was pleasant   
enough in her own perky blonde way, it was what she was carrying   
in her right hand which caught his full attention. There, half   
protruding from the bag and still in a glossy black logo-   
emblazoned manufacturer's box, was a vision of loveliness   
beyond any he had ever imagined. 

Golden-brown hair glinted in the indoor fluorescent lighting.   
Eyes the colour of stormy seas, slightly dazed and frantic-looking,   
peered intently out at the world beyond. Lips set in a distinct   
pout, an adorably dimpled little chin, and a long auburn plait   
hanging down to the chest. Qui-Gon's mouth dropped open and his   
heart did a backflip. 

The bag drew closer to him as the woman came to a stop. He hoisted   
himself up to get a better look. Glancing across, the Jedi Master   
was startled to find himself locked eye-to-eye with the bewitching   
creature in the box. All words fell away and he knew, then and   
there, that in this gaze lay the completion of his lifelong search. 

---------------------- 

Obi-Wan gave a sigh of relief when he saw that they had arrived   
at what was apparently their final destination. Quite honestly,   
he had been getting more than a little green around the gills   
from being swung so violently back and forth in this maddening   
cardboard prison. He wriggled his wrists vainly in the hope   
that his restraints might have loosened during the journey.   
No such luck. No amount of Force-enhanced finesse seemed to   
help in slackening the ties. The padawan caught himself in   
mid-curse and reminded himself not to center on his anxieties,   
knowing that he should be saving his strength for the right   
moment to make his escape. Then he decided to curse anyway. 

Or rather, he was about to decide to curse anyway, but never   
quite got around to it. Because at that very moment, his   
desperately darting eyes lit upon a sight which simply took   
his breath away. 

Blue. They were dark blue. A shade of cobalt so rich that, until   
today, he'd only seen its kind on the fine tapestries and gilded   
flatware of royalty. But, no, this blue didn't belong behind a   
glass case -- it was too thoroughly suffused with a quality of   
warmth and life. The eyes within which this miraculous hue   
resided spoke intimately of one who had a deep and dynamic   
connection with everything and everyone who entered his existence.   
And at the same time, they spoke of a spirit which was in perfect   
tune with the Force that encompassed and transcended them all. 

Feeling more than a little dizzy, Obi-Wan suddenly remembered   
that respiration was a good thing. Consequently, he took a few   
deep breaths. The sudden influx of oxygen, combined with his   
serious case of nausea and a badly jangled set of nerves, had   
a fairly detrimental effect. With hardly a moment in which to   
resume his curse, the Jedi padawan abruptly slumped forward,   
unconscious, still firmly trussed up in the carton. 

---------------------- 

Everything after that point, Qui-Gon would later reflect, happened   
with the heart-poundingly slow clarity and inevitability of a   
recurring dream. It was as if his whole life had been lived only   
for the purpose of leading up to this moment. Perhaps it had. How   
many times had he imagined this meeting and its aftermath? How   
many times had he envisioned the exact circumstances, how often   
had he rehearsed what he would say? How much had he struggled to   
simply convey the depth of his emotions... to one whom he hadn't   
even known existed, as anything more than a wish, until today? 

And as with almost every other fateful world-twisting event   
throughout the annals of history, he hadn't even realized it   
was happening until he was too far in to have any influence   
over the siutation. 

For one thing, they wouldn't be having their first encounter under   
gaudy neon lights, in a shopping center which looked like the evil   
spawn of an union between Las Vegas and the Home Shopping Network.   
Neither would it have been his first inclination to have his beloved   
arrive in his arms pallid and unconscious. Well, not at this juncture,   
at any rate. Having the crowd of spectators watching them the entire   
time wasn't particularly pleasant, either -- though, once again, he   
considered the possibility of revising that statement at a future   
date. As for the prolonged and tedious process of removing the padawan   
from his bonds... No, come to think of it, that had been rather fun.   
He'd have to remember to salvage those ties before they left for the   
evening. Qui-Gon blinked and shook his head. 

Well, he still hadn't like the lights. 

---------------------- 

EPILOGUE 

He regained consciousness bit by agonizingly slow bit, his   
head feeling like it was stuffed with foam rubber. Where was he?   
He tentatively stretched his arms, and found that he could move   
them freely. Not in the box, then. Against his back, he felt a   
cool smooth surface. Slightly curved. He shivered a little,   
wondering why he was only wearing his thin undertunic. Where was   
the rest of his clothing? He steadied himself with one hand upon   
the sturdy wall of glass behind him and gingerly pulled himself   
upright into sitting position. His head swam, and clenched his   
jaw, willing himself to stay awake. Seconds later, it passed. 

Feeling slightly more confident, he cracked open one eye   
experimentally, waited for it to focus, then frowned. No, this   
couldn't be right. He opened the other eye, stared, then blinked.   
Standard-issue Jedi garb was strewn everywhere in a wide circle   
around him. More than one set, he noticed with an air of puzzlement. 

Off to one side, a large pile of beige suddenly stirred and turned   
around to face him. He blinked again. He'd seen this man before,   
somewhere. Knew him somehow. In fact, though it didn't make a bit   
of sense, it seemed like he'd always known him. With a start, he   
realized that the other fellow wasn't wearing too much clothing,   
either. Oh my... 

"Oh my god, what happened?!" 

The handsome older man beside him yawned and gave him a warm   
smile. "You were great." 

A look of baffled disbelief crossed his face. "I was?" 

The bearded man nodded. 

"Oh..." He felt another dizzy spell coming on. 

"Shh, I'll explain later." The other Jedi, for that was surely what   
he was, pulled him into his lap and cradled his head against one   
broad shoulder. "All in good time, padawan. All in good time." 

After a moment, he looked up again at the knight... no, with the   
amount of grey in his hair, he had to be a master. "I know this   
is bound to sound awkward, master, sir, but err... hi, my name   
is Ob..." 

The man nodded. "Obi-Wan Kenobi. I know. I've been waiting   
for you for a while now. And I'm Qui-Gon Jinn." The man paused,   
studying him curiously with his intense blue gaze. "But you   
already knew that, didn't you?" 

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in thought, and he snuggled up closer to   
his master. Yes, come to think of it, he always had. 

~finis~ 


End file.
